


In the Gutter, Looking Up

by havisham



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Alec and Sandy are the kind of couple that will last forever despite the efforts of all involved, Alternative Perspective, Canon Queer Relationship, Dark Comedy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Jealousy, M/M, Not Bad Bang, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>There are moments when one has to choose between living one's own life, fully, entirely, completely-or dragging out some false, shallow, degrading existence that the world in its hypocrisy demands.</i> </p><p>Sandy Reid chooses. (Failing to choose is also a choice.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Gutter, Looking Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disenchanted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disenchanted/gifts).



> Hey, recipient! First of all, thank you for amazing prompts! I was really spoiled for choice -- I want to do all of them! But ultimately, trying to crack the puzzle that is Sandy Reid just proved too much of a temptation. I hope the following is acceptable -- I really wanted to give you some sriracha, but I ended up only dabs of ketchup...

“It’s a mausoleum,” Sandy said grandly, at the front door. He gave Laurie a look. “All you can say is, the proportions are good.” 

Laurie hunched over and muttered something. Sandy nodded wisely, he knew by now that Laurie wasn’t quite social. 

The stairs up to his and Alec’s flat had never looked narrower or more precarious. Sandy stood back and made some noises about the house having good bones. Laurie looked at him, scathing and Sandy grew suddenly angry. _The little bastard._

Nonetheless, Sandy offered Laurie his arm, because he was (going to be) a doctor, and he was not a sadist. But Laurie ignored it and then spent ages getting up the stairs. And of course, Sandy couldn't go inside and wait, so he waited at the head of the stairs and looked down at Laurie, who seemed content to ignore Sandy’s idle scrutiny... 

When finally Laurie was up, Sandy opened the door and felt himself to unbend and to expand (only figuratively, of course -- although he had once worn one during an production of _Lady Windermere’s Fan_ at the hospital amateur dramatic society and he hadn’t found it too objectionable.) Now, he could breathe a little freer. He was home, no need to pretend anymore. No need to lie. And Sandy had never been a good liar -- so much gave him away! His face, his voice that shook -- not so now. Now, his voice lightened when he called out greetings, smiled at the people he liked and grinned at the ones he didn't. 

His friends, his tribe, for better or worse. 

The party had started without him, but he saw at once that his own careful preparations hadn't been for naught. He almost forgot Laurie, in the excitement, in the rush. Alec appeared, the beloved birthday boy, who laughed with good natured embarrassment when Sandy gave him a birthday-kiss, amid claps and someone urging him to go one step better. He had a sudden urge to take Alec away and give him his present early, leave the party to fend for itself, leave Odell, L.P., to fend for himself. 

But. Whatever hopes Sandy had briefly nursed about Laurie, though long dead, wounded at the pub and killed on the bus, but he knew that Alec would very much like to know more about this interesting young man and his connection with Ralph Lanyon. And so Sandy told him, hand folded over Alec's ear, like a secret. 

Alec was a good listener, the best in making a person feel like he was the center of his world. Alec leaned in, his eyes widened at the mention of Lanyon's name and something jealous, ugly and wretched, began to gnaw in the pit of Sandy's stomach. 

Sandy had tried -- he really had! -- to be friendly towards Lanyon, for Alec’s sake rather than anything else. But at every turn, every gesture, rebuffed. Lanyon always made him so stupid and insignificant, as if he didn’t deserve to have Alec at all. 

Lanyon had always hated him, from the first, even before Sandy had given him a reason to do so. Not that Sandy owed Lanyon an explanation for anything. If Alec understood and still loved him, who was _Lanyon_ to hold Sandy’s mistakes against him? 

"... Someone who knows Ralph from school, do you think?" Alec said, chewing at his lower lip. He stopped as soon as he saw Sandy looking. It was a nervous habit, but Alec wasn't the nervous type. "Shall I talk to him?" 

"Why ask me? I brought him here for you, didn't I? You remember -- I told you about him, the one at the EMS hospital." Sandy kept his voice as light and teasing as he could, but Alec frowned and shook his head. 

“The way he _looked_ at me, my dear,” Sandy continued on, with considerable relish, “right across the ward in the middle of the teaching round, as bold as brass, no possible error, it made me feel quite shy. Goodness knows why he won‘t drop a hairpin now, the silly boy.” 

Sandy shot a look over to Laurie, who had crossed over the landing, in search of the bathroom. His back was painfully stiff. Sandy was sure he had heard. 

Alec drew a breath. “But he knows Ralph, you said. How?” 

“From school, I should imagine.” 

"And he’s due at any minute. If he's -- someone unsuitable, will you be able to hustle him off before Ralph sees him?"

"Unsuitable? Alec, my dear. You worry too much -- Ralph can take care of himself.” Sandy pushed a lock of hair away from Alec's face. Alec gave him a brief smile and went over to find Laurie. 

Sandy got himself a drink. He had a feeling that it would be a long, long night. 

*

Sandy remembered when he first met Alec -- he had been so nervous that his hands shook and he had made a mess of the introductions -- blurting a stupid joke out that they could have easily been Sandy Deacon and Alec Reid!

(Although that wasn’t true, Sandy thought immediately. He could never be an Alec.) 

Alec hadn’t looked awkward or embarrassed for him. Instead, he had laughed, which even Sandy couldn’t quite bring himself to do. He was far too busy feeling both awkward and embarrassed. 

But it was easy to like Alec, to love Alec. In the early days, it was easy. They had the same course, they would would walk back to Alec's flat, hands not quite touching, in deep discussion of the day's lesson. And then, afterward, it was the most natural thing to go from talking to touching, to kissing, to fucking. Alec liked making Sandy blush and Sandy liked to make Alec laugh. 

Sandy had been revising on Alec’s bed -- or rather, sprawled there, trying half-heartedly to read -- when there was a knock at the door and a muffled voice that distracted Alec completely. He rose quickly and dressed, leaving Sandy behind to wonder. Sandy waited, unsure of what to do. Alec hadn't come back from the other room, so Sandy went to investigate. He had gone bare-foot and hovered uncertainly at the door. From some perspectives, it could seem like he was eavesdropping. 

Alec and his visitor looked up at the same time, their quiet conversation silenced immediately upon Sandy's entrance -- or, rather, his lack of one. He pulled back, embarrassed, apologizing faintly before Alec called him back, and when that didn't work, came and pulled Sandy physically to the door. 

"I've been meaning to introduce you, Sandy, this is Ralph. Ralph, Sandy." 

They shook hands, and Sandy felt absurd. He had heard of Ralph Lanyon, of course, mostly through Alec, mostly through thoughtless little bits of information that Sandy had built up in his head, the overall impression being quite wrong. He had thought Ralph would be taller, somehow, more handsome, somehow impressive. 

But in truth, he was quite ordinary. 

"Sandy Reid, yes, Alec mentioned you. I'm afraid I wasn't much in the mood for introductions when I was at the hospital." Ralph gave him a brief smile, one that could mean anything. 

"And of course, I've heard so much about you, the legendary Ralph Lanyon," Sandy said in a hearty tone that did nothing to hide the tension he felt. Lanyon gave him a quick once over before dismissing him, visibly from his mind, felt his face heat up, but he kept smiling. "This is a little awkward." 

"It doesn't need to be," Alec said. "Let's get some drinks in us before swapping sea stories." 

"Alec, I haven't the time," Ralph said, with a smile -- this time, genuine. 

"Of course you have! I've never seen you refuse a drink. Sandy? Are you coming?" Alec looked over to him, his eyes not quite pleading, but. Sandy could only nod. 

The rest of the night was a drunken blur. Sandy wanted to cling Alec like a limpet, but Ralph’s presence put him off, and the damn man wouldn’t leave, absorbed as he was in his interminable stories. 

Finally, Sandy conceded defeat and dragged himself off to bed. But he didn’t do it quietly. 

Later on, he felt a weight beside him on the bed, and Alec’s hand, briefly against his cheek. “You can stop pretending to sleep, Sandy.” 

Sandy opened his eyes and looked at him. “I was sleeping.” He yawned, to emphasize this. His eyelids felt heavy and his mind, slow. Sandy had the gift to be able to sleep even during times of considerable stress and turmoil. He wished he could sleep now, instead of looking at Alec. 

Alec looked back at him, practically humming with energy. He didn't speak. 

"Well," Sandy said slowly, "I suppose you want to tell me all about Ralph and what great friends you are." 

"I won't bore you with that. As long as you know it is only friendship. You do know that, don't you?" 

"Yes," Sandy said, pulling Alec to him. He wasn’t sure how true Alec’s words were, but for now, he was determined to make Alec forget Ralph altogether. 

* 

At some point in the evening, Sandy decided that he had had enough. The theatrics of Lanyon's entrance -- his meeting with Laurie, their conversation that both he and Alec had been oh-so-careful not to overhear -- all of that had lost interest, grown dull and commonplace. Even the trouble with Bim, usually enough to fuel a whole night’s worth of gossip and fun soured quickly, leaving behind only a vague discomfort, of witnessing something one should not have.

Sandy slipped away when he knew no-one was looking. Alec was still talking to Laurie, wouldn’t miss him, wouldn’t care. Sandy felt so tired. He went to the bedroom that he shared with Alec and ransacked the bedside table, looking for good stuff. He had a thought to just take what he found and go to sleep, let the rest of them sort it out. But the bed was covered with other people’s coats, and besides, guests could burst in at any moment. 

He felt dirty and awful. He wanted to take a bath, more than anything. 

*

Sandy pushed his head out the water and looked up at the ceiling, white and water-stained. 

He remembered once, during his childhood, being taken to a party with his mother, pressed and cleaned and powdered within an inch of his life, and letting go of his mother's hand just as soon as he could, and being swept up in a crowd of older boys. One of them handed him a cigarette, and Sandy, anxious to make the right impression, had breathed in the smoke, deeply, because coughing it up again -- with everyone laughing at him… If that wasn’t enough humiliation, there was more to come. Another boy said that the gate to the swimming pool was open. 

The swimming pool was large and well-lit, open to the night sky. It was seductive, alluring, beautiful. Sandy wouldn’t go in, no matter how much the other boys chivvied him to do so. Instead, he hovered at the edges, watching and debating with himself until it was too late. He heard his mother’s voice, calling for him to come. 

He did, but looking back, regretting always that he could have had perfect freedom, perfect pleasure, and he had refused it. As soon as he saw his mother, Sandy began to cry, astonishing her. “I want to go back,” he said, pulling at her hand. “Please, please, let me.” 

Impatient, his mother said no, it was as if a door had shut in his face. But it was his own fault. It was always his own fault. 

There wasn’t much blood, he had made the cut too shallow. Someone was rattling the doorknob, asking a question that Sandy, too fogged-up and numb to understand. He wanted it to be over that was all. The water wasn’t even warm, and he shivered.

The voice was louder now, recognizable. _Lanyon. Oh God, fuck off Lanyon!_ The doorknob rattled in earnest now. He might have said it aloud. The door swung open and Lanyon came through. Sandy sighed. He had forgotten to bolt the door, of course.

Lanyon looked at Sandy and Sandy sneered back. Gripping the side of the tub, Sandy sat up. 

“This bathroom is occupied,” Sandy said, with considerable dignity. 

Of course, Lanyon ignored him. 

* 

No one loved him enough. Didn't love, or didn't love enough. He himself was in the latter group. Sandy wished that he could change, that he could be the person who could be loved. He wished that his chin was firmer and his eyelashes, darker. He wished that the boys he loved would love him back, and in the way he was certain he deserved. 

Take Alec, for instance. He thought he could fool Sandy so easily, as if Sandy didn’t have eyes to see. 

Sandy opened his eyes and saw Alec looking down at him, worriedly. They had all left, the rest of them, even Lanyon, and rest of the house was quiet. Alec looked like hell, but Sandy knew he probably looked worse. 

He kept quiet (except for a few sniffs) -- there didn't seem anything left to say. 

Except. Alec said in an almost too-low voice that if Sandy ever did this again -- his steady voice wavered a little -- then he would leave him. 

"I'm serious, Sandy," he said. "I am." 

"I know," Sandy said quietly. 

* 

Afterwards, Sandy hardly had time to think. He rarely saw Alec, and this provided a certain measure of relief. Life went back to its familiar pattern, as if nothing had happened. And, as far as Sandy was concerned, nothing had. He neglected to reply to his mother’s letters, for so long that she actually phoned. He enjoyed speaking to her, despite the guilt, and was disappointed when the pips went for the third time and she had to ring off. Sandy had just put down the phone when Alec came in, quiet as a cat. 

"That was my mother. Lord, how she can talk..." Sandy looked up to see Alec's face. "What is it?" 

"It's Bim, he's been killed." 

Sandy rose, the telephone receiver still in his hand. "Oh, Alec. How terrible, what a horrible -- in such a situation, you can't help but lapse into cliches, can't you?" 

"I suppose not," said Alec, with a brief smile that looked more like grimace. "I'm going over to Ralph's to give him the news. Will you go with me?" 

"Of course," Sandy said, "I'll get my coat." 

Sandy remembered Bim from before, of course. No one who had met Bim could forget him. He was always so much fun, so full of life and mischief. It seemed unbelievable that he should be dead. It had started raining by the time they were out of the flat. Sandy and Alec shared an umbrella on their way to Ralph's place, hands tucked into the folds of their coats, against the chill. 

* 

Sandy's shining moment of heroism had come and gone. There had been some kind of obstruction with the pump, and his first instinct was to grab something -- a shovel -- and chuck the incendiary out somewhere that wasn’t the roof of the hospital. He hardly had time to regret this decision when the pump started to work again, dousing both him and the incendiary. 

At first, Sandy hardly noticed any pain at all, he would’ve gone except someone stopped him and asked to see his arm. When the burned coat and shirt had been peeled away, however, that was a different story. Sandy felt faint, he was faint. The next thing he knew, he was in a hospital bed, only half-listening to the doctors talk in quiet voices about possibility of skin grafts. Sandy tried to listen -- he and Alec had discussed the work of McIndoe only the week before -- but eventually the medicine kicked in, and he slept. 

*

Sandy’s arm healed, albeit slowly, frustratingly slow. He received some time off but he couldn't rest, not really, feeling as he did, a constant pressure to do something, to not be entirely useless. Eventually, he decided to go back to hospital, agreed to be shuttled off to less demanding tasks. Somehow, a patient's confidence was shaken when they saw their doctor come in with a sling. Still, there were those who knew what Sandy had done and complimented him. Sandy blushed and accepted their words with a sort of dazed pride. 

But at home, with no one to distract him, things were different. He was ready to start climbing the walls when Alec came in one night, looking troubled. He wanted to talk, he told Sandy, shoulders hunched. He looked like he was ready for a fight, but Sandy surrendered without a word. 

He let Alec speak, about things that Sandy already knew -- the general shape, if not the specifics. In some ways, it was a relief to know that he hadn't been crazy, hadn't seen things that weren't there, that Alec had been unfaithful after all, despite what he said, and what Sandy had thought, and everything. Not with Lanyon, perhaps -- _not with Ralph at all_ , Alec said, an angry spark in his eye -- but with others. 

"God, even _Bunny_?"

Alec had the grace to look embarrassed. "That's where it started." 

"I need some time," Sandy said, feeling as if he couldn't breath, his heart was beating too fast. "Go away now, Alec, would you?" 

Alec hesitated and looked like he was going to protest. But in the end, practicality won out. He was late, anyway. 

*

"If I had any pride left," Sandy said when Alec sitting on the floor of the old nursery, looking through the bars on the windows to the open sky. "I should leave you. Join up and get out of bloody Bridstow for good. But you know I have no pride, my dear..." 

Then he looked over to Alec and saw that he was a wreck, far more so than he had been when he left for the hospital. 

"What happened? I didn't get a call...?" 

"No, not at the hospital. There was some business with Laurie -- and Ralph. A misunderstanding. I think it's sorted out itself out, but Laurie didn't call at the hospital and I don't think he knows our number." 

"Come sit by me," Sandy said, patting a spot on the carpet next to him. 

“I’m sure they’re all right,” he added, even though he didn’t care. 

Alec sat down and sighed. "I can only hope. I suppose we need to sort things out ourselves." 

“No need,” Sandy said, bumping his shoulder against Alec’s. “You know, I am glad you told me the truth, because I'll tell you it too -- look, I don't want to make you suffer. You can let me go, Alec." 

"Don't be stupid," Alec said fiercely, "I'm not with you out of guilt." 

"You are, and I thought that would be enough. But I don't think it is, anymore." Sandy stood up, swaying a little, his head felt light. This was mature, and he was proud of himself. He had finally done it, a perfect sacrifice. 

Then he said, "We can tell people you gave me the boot. That's what everyone will believe, anyway." 

Alec put his hands over his face. “I need a drink.” 

“You need a drink, and a meal, and long time to sleep. Probably a wank too,” Sandy said cheerfully, offering his hand to Alec, and then pulled him up. 

*

Later that night, Sandy turned to Alec’s side of the bed and hissed, “Alec! Are you awake?” 

“What is it, Sandy?”

“I don’t want to, you know,” Sandy made a vague gesture that he knew Alec couldn’t quite see. “I’ve changed my mind.” 

A long silence. 

Sandy thought Alec might have gone back to sleep. He leaned in, to make sure. “Alec?” 

“Have you?” Alec’s voice, though still tired, had in it a definite thread of interest. Sandy grinned and wriggled forward and skimmed his mouth against the curve of Alec's jaw. Alec sighed and Sandy could feel him relax under him. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes," Sandy said, "I love you." He didn't regret saying it first, or saying first thing. It wasn't a test, and it wasn't a challenge. It was only the truth. He began to rub against Alec very deliberately, listening to the sounds of Alec's breath growing heavy, as did his own. Sandy reached down and took hold of Alec's cock, heard Alec's quiet murmur of approval and grinned. 

He knew how Alec liked it, gentle at first, but then rougher, more urgent. Then Sandy let go and sat up, pushing away the blankets. 

"Oh," Alec hissed through his teeth. 

"Shh," Sandy said, running his hand down Alec's chest, feeling the gooseflesh forming. 

"Sandy," Alec protested but Sandy silenced him easily enough. He took Alec's cock into his mouth, letting it rest against the tip of his tongue before swallowing down. 

“Oh, _Christ_ ,” Alec breathed. 

Sandy went on, satisfied. 

 

*

This was a bad idea, Sandy knew that as soon as he had thought of it. He hadn’t been to Lanyon’s new digs, not without Alec. But that morning, he had decided and so he had left Alec wrapped up in blankets, deeply asleep, and had brought with him a small bottle of whiskey as a gesture of peace. He knocked on the door, expecting no answer. He would give the package to the nice woman downstairs to give to Lanyon and be off. 

But the door opened on the second knock. Lanyon was there, and immediately he looked over Sandy’s shoulder, looking for Alec. 

 

“Just me, I’m afraid,” Sandy said with a grin. He handed the package to Lanyon, who took it with second of hesitation. He looked as if he had dressed hastily and Sandy noticed with some fascination that he had not yet shaved, and that his beard had a reddish tinge to it. No wonder Laurie hadn’t been able to recognize him during the evacuation. “But you did give Alec a fright last night, you know, when you didn’t call.” 

“Yes,” Lanyon said indistinctly. He opened the door a little wider. “I should apologize. Will you come in?” 

“All right,” Sandy said. He decided that it was much easier to talk to Lanyon when he wasn’t perfectly turned out. He waited until Lanyon closed the door and gave him a quick embrace. It was like holding a suddenly electrified piece of wire. 

“What are you _doing_ \--” Lanyon said, sounding more like himself. 

Sandy let go hastily, and rattled out: “I thought you might want to talk about what happened. We’re a bit alike, you know. I understand what you’ve gone through --” 

“No, Sandy,” Lanyon said firmly, “You don’t know. But, thank you.” He shook the package, which he had nearly dropped during the hug. 

Duty done, Sandy nodded. 

“Well,” he said, reaching for the doorknob, “Alec will see you soon, I’m sure. Give my best to Laurie.” 

“Yes,” was the tight-lipped reply. 

But Sandy didn’t care. He bounded out of Lanyon’s flat and out of the house. His heart was light for the first time in months. He felt free. The gates were open, and he could go through. 

 

He hoped this feeling lasted for a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my betas, Oona Seckor and Lilliburlero, without whom this would be complete mess, instead of a partial one. The corset's for you, Oona.
> 
> Title and summary come from Oscar Wilde, of course.


End file.
